An Odd Friendship
by SevenForASecret
Summary: For some reason, in Ginny's second year, when all she wants to do is get away from everyone and hide in a corner, a well-meaning fourth-year Slytherin boy decides to sit at her table in the library and say hello. Out of that simple act, a very unusual and unexpected friendship is formed between the youngest Weasley and an eventual Quidditch Captain named Urquhart.
1. Rule 9

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off of this story.

**Setting**: Fall, in the Trio's third year, and Ginny's second.

* * *

The silence of the library was broken by a rather annoyed slam of a book's cover against itself, making Cailean Urquhart look up from his Defence Against The Dark Arts homework that Professor Lupin had assigned. It was dinner, and he had thought the library empty, save himself and Madam Pince. While it _was_ possible that Madam Pince had made the noise, he didn't think she was capable of treating any of her precious books so callously. So, of course, he had to go investigate.

He would have walked by her if she hadn't shifted in the small alcove just as he walked by. A moment later he wondered how he could have missed her. It was the youngest Weasley, and her hair was bright enough to catch the light, even in the darkened library. It was as though she had become so used to hiding and keeping herself from others that sheer force of will made her hard to see. It reminded him of the charms on Nessie to keep her hidden from muggles. So, of course, just to be contrary, the fourth year walked over and sat down at the table, not saying anything at first, just studying her.

He knew what was said around the castle, of course. That she had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year and rescued by Harry Potter. That much had been all but confirmed, even for Slytherins. The rest was shadowy gossip: some said she was the Heir of Slytherin, planted in a Gryffindor family and in Gryffindor to strike at the heart of the school, while others claimed she had been possessed by the Dark Lord himself, or that she had actually died in the Chamber and what came out was a soulless husk. This last one he found particularly laughable, as he had never known Inferi to walk, talk, or given where they were, read.

When she glared at him, he resisted the urge to laugh. His father had instilled in him many rules for life while he had taken the boy around the kennels where the family raised their champion deerhounds. Rule #9 had always stood him in good stead, with dogs and with people - when a pup or bitch glares at your intrusion, never laugh, just sit there until they've relaxed again. It was a difficult trial, but he refrained, and instead pulled out his homework and resumed his reading as though it was perfectly normal for him to sit there.

* * *

Ginny had no idea what the Slytherin wanted. She didn't know who he was - he wasn't in her year or in Quidditch, so all she had to go on was his green and silver uniform. She kept glancing up from her book, but he seemed to be ignoring her. She was suspicious of everyone, _especially_ Slytherins, and almost decided to change seats before she took a deep breath and summoned all her Gryffindor courage, refusing to be scared off. If she did, it would just be proof that she was weak, and the little niggling voice of doubt in her mind, the one that sounded _exactly_ like Tom would win again. She wasn't going to move, not until he did.

Ginny had just started to relax when he spoke, just a simple 'Hi,' but it put her on her guard. She did her best to imitate Professor McGonagall's best cool civility. "Hello."

That was it. That was all he said. She continued with her research until she heard the tell-tale thump of an impossibly heavy bag on a library table, which was her signal that it was time to leave, Hermione had arrived. She stood up, fixed her scarf, put the heavy book back, and started to walk away - feeling proud of herself. She had not been cowed by her discomfort. Just as she turned her back, though, he spoke again.

"Have a good night, then." The boy remarked. It was then Ginny realised with a start that he was Scottish. She hadn't been able to tell from a simple 'Hi,' but the slightly longer goodbye made it more obvious. It made her smile and gave her something she could use to differentiate him from Tom, or most of the other people who teased her, including Slytherins like Malfoy. She noticed she had stopped and attempted a smile that felt rather false. "Good night."

* * *

That was how it went for a few days. Ginny would go to her usual spot in the library, and eventually the brown-haired Slytherin would show up, and sit across from here. They would say hello and goodbye and otherwise stay in silence. It was odd, but Ginny was beginning to think of him as a friend, and she didn't even know his name. That was why, on the fifth day, while she was struggling through potions homework, she put down her all-but-stripped quill and looked up at the older boy. "I'm Ginny," she said, breaking the silence for the first time herself.

If Cailean was honest with himself, he had no idea why he kept coming over and sitting with the girl. Perhaps it was the same reason why he liked to go up to the Loch for at least one day every break and keep Nessie company. An idea that anything that had to keep itself hidden, by their own will or forced upon them, should know that someone _saw_ them, at least once in a while. That didn't mean that he expected her to talk to him, per se, but the fact that she did made him lower his book, with an open, honest grin. "I'm Cailean." He replied easily.

Ginny blinked. "Colin?" She repeated, unsure if it was just his accent making the name seem stranger than when Colin Creevey said it.

It was only through loads of experience that Cailean managed not to roll his eyes. "No, lass, Cailean." He cleared his throat slightly and drew out his name as best he could, which was pretty well. "Kal-an, not Call-in or Coal-in."

"Cailean." Ginny repeated, easily, feeling a little bit better about these odd meetings now, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. "What's it mean?"

Cailean did roll his eyes then, but it wasn't directed at her, it was directed at the ceiling. "It means whelp, or puppy."

Ginny's eyes went wide. "Your parents named you 'puppy?' Why?"

"My family breeds deerhounds." Cailean explained. "I suppose my Da thought it was a bit of a laugh. There's a family tradition in our particular bloodline to only use names that start with G or C, because the ancestor that founded the clan's name began with a C, and G for the glen where we live." He shrugged. "It's a bit daft. What about you? What's Ginny mean?"

Ginny blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Ginny's short for Ginevra, according to Mum, it means juniper, but according to Dad it's a version of Guinevere, after the queen."

"I always felt bad for Guinevere." Cailean admitted, putting his book away. "In the stories, I mean. Kidnapped, manipulated, almost executed, saved again..." He shook his head. "The price of being royal, I guess."

Ginny considered that. "I never really thought of it that way." She admitted. "The stories are usually about Merlin, Arthur and Morgana."

Cailean started putting his things away. "Yeah, I know, but still." He threw his bag over one shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Ginny, have a good night." He stopped, though, a few steps away. "And the answer to number six is a rolling boil."

"Night." Ginny said, surprising herself with the fact that she was almost a little sad to see him go, until he distracted her with her homework, so that when she glanced up from fixing the mistake, he was already gone.


	2. The Great Quill Caper

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, and am making no money from this flight of fancy.

**Setting:** Last week in September, 1993.

**Author's Note:** I'd like to thank my reviewers and those who bothered to read this. :)

* * *

Quills were an important part to one's career as a Hogwarts student. They were the most basic tool one needed to take notes, do homework, or pass exams, and over the weeks of their strange friendship centered around a library table, Cailean Urquhart had noticed that Ginny's quills were...well, useless. She was constantly having to stop what she was doing to sharpen her quills with a spell or a quill knife, while trying to keep the cheap shafts from splitting.

The one time he tried to hand her a quill from his bag she had fixed him with a glare that made him pull his hand back, afraid of offending her pride even more and ruining the tenuous friendship they had formed. As the days went on and the problems with her quills continued, he began to notice how efficient at sharpening she was, obviously from having to do it silently and quickly in class. He wanted to help, but he knew any more overt overtures would likely be taken as attempts of charity rather than friendship, so he needed a more subtle way to do it.

The most obvious "subtle" way to do it would be the standard "secret admirer" schtick. This, however, would likely gather the attention of one or more of her brothers, and being an older brother himself he didn't want that. The other flaw in the "secret admirer" plot was the fact that since he had already offered her a quill, Ginny would likely see through it and either read it as a romantic gift or charity and become uncomfortable with him again. He didn't want that, either.

That left him with the third option, which was slightly more complicated and involved promising copious amounts of chocolate frogs and a new dress to his little sister, to be paid in full during the first trip to Hogsmeade. Luckily, Cliona wasn't about to tell anyone for fear of losing said presents, and was quite the crafty pickpocket. Cailean had taught her well over boring days when his mother told him to mind his siblings. His theory had been that teaching his siblings unsavoury skills would lessen his child-minding responsibilities. This had failed.

* * *

Thus, when Ginny came in and sat down at what had become their table, muttering under her breath about Herbology, he was already there. "Rough day?" He offered, looking up from his Charms essay.

Ginny gave him a look that said it was a stupid question, but she answered anyway, dropping into her seat. "I hate mandrakes and they hate me."

"Mandrakes hate everyone." Cailean observed, without malice."How did you do on your potions exam?"

"I got an E." Ginny said happily, breaking a smile. "No doubt due to help studying."

Cailean puffed himself up, only partially playing at the compliment. "Thank you, thank you, I do try."

"One would almost think you were supposed to be in Ravenclaw." Ginny finished airily, as she got out her homework for History of Magic.

Cailean's eyes widened in shock and he almost fell out of his chair. "Oi! Take that back! I help you and then you impugn my honour? You wound me, lass!"

Ginny snorted, as in her House and circle of friends and family, suggesting someone should have been somewhere other than Slytherin would have been seen as a compliment. "Fine, fine, I take it back." She pulled a quill out of her case and waved it at him. "But in my House, that's a compliment." Her playful distraction kept her from noticing at first that the quill in her hand was not one of the Scrivenshaft's cheapest, and she turned a glare on the boy she had just been complimenting. "What did you do?"

Cailean blinked in a perfect mask of confusion. "I've done a lot of things, but what are you glaring at me for?"

"You replaced my quill!" Ginny said, angrily. "If I need new quills, I can get them myself, I don't need yours or anyone else's cast-offs."

"And how do you think I did that?" Cailean asked, managing to keep his face completely clear, and waved his quill at the girl. "In case you haven't noticed, all my pens are pheasant. That's not." Both of these statements were true - the quill in Ginny's hand was a swan feather, which looked nothing like the pheasant feathers he used.

Ginny was glaring at him, almost certain he had done it. "You spelled them somehow, a switching spell or something."

"That would require both of them to be within my eyeline." Cailean pointed out. "And you just got it out, and I haven't touched my wand."

Ginny's eyes were narrowed at him, obviously trying to figure out the puzzle. With a huff, she reached into her bag and pulled out her quill box. "My quills are _fine_." She had planned to prove this to him by showing him her collection of bargain quills, but when she opened the box and looked down, she found five more snow-white, brand-new quills. Logically, she knew that he couldn't have possibly gotten into her bag, as they had been holding a conversation the entire time, but she suspected.

"I am going to figure out how you did this." Ginny warned him. "And then you can have your quills back."

"I never touched your quills." Cailean replied honestly, leaning back in his chair, and changing the subject. "But how about you put them to work, what've you got today?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed, but she looked at her homework anyway. "History of Magic and Astronomy." With a sigh she cracked open her history book and let the subject drop, little knowing that Cailean was mentally congratulating himself on his cunning victory in The Great Quill Caper.


End file.
